[ This, perhaps, the most intimate thing he's asked him to do, to date. That thought doesn't escape notice, even as he nods, taking the chip carefully into hand. It weighs so little, and he remembers vaguely some talk about 'weight of a soul' between some older people in his mother's church, growing up. Odd time to think of it, now.
Regardless, he stroke a hand across the back of his head before cradling, gently. Holding him steady, reassuring, as the chip finds its way to that node. Then, two fingers press, and even when it catches, continue to press in until it fits solidly with a 'click'. ]
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Regardless, he stroke a hand across the back of his head before cradling, gently. Holding him steady, reassuring, as the chip finds its way to that node. Then, two fingers press, and even when it catches, continue to press in until it fits solidly with a 'click'. ]